Creative Torture
by conversingCorpses
Summary: John shakes my shoulder and brings me back from my world. He gestures to the box with a smile. "Don't you want to see what's inside?"


Eheheh...

This one is just... strange. I enjoyed writing this.

I'm trying to do a multi-chapter, but i want to get it all typed out first, because I absolutely suck at remembering to update.

So... um... humanstuck... AU... stuff like that. Karkat and Gamzee will be very OOC. _VERY._

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**Creative Torture**

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Golden butterflies on a silver background wrapped around a doorway to countless universes. This is what I hold in my hands as of now, and I give it suspicious looks as John stares me down with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Open it!" he says.

I pause momentarily, very quickly, to contemplate what could possibly, _possibly_,_ ever_ be inside something so beautiful, then tear at the golden wings, the silver sky, ripping them to shreds. They fall to the floor as they scream in agony in my mind, making me smile. Little things shouldn't have looked so pretty, so then I wouldn't have had to destroy them.

I hold in my hands a box. Just a plain box, no markings whatsoever. John takes the box from me and runs one of his keys against the thick masking tape. The flaps spring open and several styrofoam packing peanuts fall out. I pick one up and start smashing it in my hand, laughing as some of the smaller parts float to the ground.

John shakes my shoulder and brings me back from my world. He gestures to the box with a smile.

"Don't you want to see what's inside?" he asks.

I nod vigorously. I reach forward and snatch the box from his grip. He laughs as I begin rummaging in the sea of styrofoam. My hands hit something sharp. A corner, maybe? I pull it out. I gasp.

On my lap now sits an art kit. Still in the shrink-wrap, it shines like a star. _My_ star. My little slice of heaven.

"This is the only kit they said they'd allow you to have in here," John says proudly. "It took forever to find, and it turns out that they only sold it in Europe, so..."

He goes on, but I can't listen, can't focus, can't _breathe._

I tackle him in a hug, knocking us both to the ground.

"It's amazing," I mumble, snuggling into his chest. "I love it, I love it, I love you."

He pauses, like he's shocked I'd say that or something, then he just hugs me back as tight as he can without crushing me.

"Love you too, Kar," he says, almost bashfully.

I grin and get off him. He looks confused, but I don't care. I have to put my present to good use. I tear at the shrink-wrap and pull the box open. The small brown box slides out onto the white sheets of my bed. I eagerly open it and pull a piece of paper from the included stack. I pull out a couple pastels and begin scratching on the paper.

John looks over my shoulder, but I shoo him away.

"You can see it when it's done," I say sternly, then go back to drawing.

Grey, red, green, black, blue, peach, purple, olive... I lose track of all the colors I use. They all blur together into the bigger picture. The masterpiece I an creating.

Soon enough, I finish. I turn to John, smiling. Or... I thought I did. I turn around and look at my little white-walled room. No one. I check the bathroom. Empty. Closet, not there. Where could he have gone?

I check under the bed, under the desk, behind my little bookshelf, even. No signs of John.

He's not here, I realize. He left me again.

Again?

_Again._

But why did he leave? What did I do? Was I bad again? Did I make him mad? Did I hurt his feelings?

What did I _do_?

A lady in a white coat and a green shirt walks through the universe door, the one I can't get through. I run over and pull on her sleeve like a child.

"Kanaya, miss Kanaya, where did John go?" I ask quietly.

She looks down at me with a sad smile.

"Karkat, we've been over this so many times," she mumbles, patting my head. "John is _gone._"

"What do you _mean_ gone?" I shout, backing up a step or two.

"You don't remember?" she asks. She shakes her head slowly and gives me the saddest look I've ever seen. "John is _dead_, Karkat."

I stop. Completely. Not a breath, not a twitch, not a heartbeat.

"_D-Dead_?"

Miss Kanaya nods.

"But I didn't come in here for that," she says. "One of the other patients wants to come see you. Is that alright, dear?"

I nod shakily, already knowing who it is. The only one who ever comes down here to see me.

"Alright, I'll bring him down, then. I'll be back in a bit. Don't do anything rash, dear, or you won't be able to have friends down, and I know how you _despise_ that, so just be-"

"Miss Kanaya," I mumble. She pauses. "You're rambling again."

A light blush colors her normally pale cheeks. " Oh, um, alright, then. I'll be back."

She hurries out the universe door.

I look back at my bed. The kit isn't there. There are many pictures taped to the walls and ceiling. Flowers, birds, trees, people, lakes, anything I could remember from outside. They _are_ my outside, now. I made my world myself, made every creature, every blade of the grass, every petal of the flowers. All of my creation. _All mine._ And no one could take it away from me. Not even the white coat ladies, with their smiles and their needles and their pills I push into my cheek and flush down the toilet when they're gone. Not even them.

The door swings open, and a boy with messy black hair and greasepaint on his face walk in. He has a dopey smile on as he waves.

He sits quietly on the end of my bed. Quietly, as always. He doesn't speak. Not ever.

"Hi Gamzee," I mumble, "how have you been?"

He shrugs and makes some kind of symbols with his hands, but I don't understand. I think he knows I don't understand, too, and just does it to annoy me.

I shrug too and just sigh. I lean my head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around me in a halfhearted hug.

"He was here again, today. He gave me my art set," I mumble.

Gamzee just pats my back and smiles at me. I guess he's telling me it'll be alright.

But it _won't_ be alright. I won't see John again. He left me again. _Again._ For the forty-sixth time. I wish he'd stay. Or leave me alone. I can't take his constant visitation.

It's driving me insane.


End file.
